


Something New

by thesecondseal



Series: The Knight and the Seawolf's Daughter [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Communication, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecondseal/pseuds/thesecondseal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The NSFW Sequel to A Kingdom By the Sea. Lis x Kel. Discovering demisexuality.</p><p>Before she became the Hero of Ferelden, Elissa Cousland had every intention of following–albeit a little more softly–in her mother’s footsteps. As much Mac Eanraig as Cousland, the only calling upon Lis’s young heart was that of the sea, and her love for (the future Ser) Kellen Gilmore. </p><p>Now Lis is home from sea--if not for good, then for a while--and she and Kel are each other’s. Love is everything she ever expected, romance too, but passion is not without its surprises.  </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming

 

She didn’t treat him as if he were broken. Lis said she could kiss him forever, and if the last two weeks were anything to go on, Kel believed her. They spent every free moment they had together, and the ones not free were stolen with greedy hands. She was quick, clever, and though he was certain their relationship must be on display for the entire castle to see, no one ever seemed to catch those moments of intimate connection. Of fingers clasping under tables, lips dashed across knuckles when she passed him at his post, the smile she summoned from him, no matter how hard he tried to keep a straight face, while she argued with her brother about the price of turnips or wool or how he dropped his guard on his left when he was tired.

Kel might not be much use for passion, but he was becoming more and more comfortable with the sweeping romance of them.

Being best friends since childhood meant that too many intimacies came too quickly, too easily for them, and by “too” Kel meant “how in the Void did he ever live without them?” It wasn’t long before they were sneaking into each other’s rooms, spending their nights lying beside one another, holding hands and telling secrets to the soft press of umber shadow above their heads. His bed smelled like her soap—something woodsy and cinnamon that she had picked up on her travels—and his pillow was sweet with subtle perfume. She slept with her head on his arm, her back curved against his side. The display of vulnerability was a gift of trust he did not take lightly, nor did he miss the way she angled herself between him and the door, knife near her hand, guarded and guard.

If he was becoming more comfortable with romance, love came even more easily. At some point he stopped worrying about being enough for her. He didn’t know if there would ever be a man or woman to deserve her, but Kel knew that he loved her with everything that he was.  And Lis?

No one had ever made him feel the way she did. 

Every day she kissed him. Every night. Gently, slowly, and with a patience Kel would never have expected from a woman who demanded everything from life, then held on tight with both hands. She touched him as if he were dreams spun into glass, hovered above him like a wish. Her body was warm, an intriguing contrast of firm and soft, muscles honed against the fury of the Waking Sea. Her skin was like silk and he swore that she had soaked so much of sun she carried it within. Kel didn’t think he would ever get enough of touching her, holding her.

Except that sometimes he had to.

“Kel?”

Her lips were sweet on his, hands framing his face, thumbs sweeping in feather-light whispers across his cheekbones before she kissed him—once, twice—in the wake of their promises. He didn’t know how long they had been like this, lost in eachother, but her breath was harsh, and his name sounded heavy as she came back to his mouth, murmured again something wordless and needy.

“It’s alright.”

He kissed her neck, lips wide and open, tasting salt and heat and the frantic race of her heart.  She had one leg thrown over his hip, sealing them together shoulder to thigh but for the layers of their clothing, and he wasn’t certain what he was reassuring her about. The retreat he knew was coming or the subtle shift of her hips toward him.

“We have to stop.”

She didn’t sound as if she wanted to stop, but Lis’s will was iron.

“I know.”

She had promised to never pressure him for more than he desired, and she hadn’t. Whenever things got to be too much between them for her peace of mind, Lis simply stopped, a wry but uncomplaining grin on her face. Kel wished, too desperately sometimes, that he could give her more.

“We had better sleep in our own beds tonight.”

Which—Maker, help him—was code for her lying in her own bed, alone, and running those beautiful hands all over her beautiful body. Giving herself what he...couldn’t? The word didn’t seem right anymore. The first few times she had left him--or sent him on his way--Kel hadn’t minded. Honestly, he had been too surprised, then too embarrassed to do more than blush and mumble a goodnight. But the last time he had found himself jealous, frustrated that he didn’t seem to want the same more from her that she longed for from him, angry that the divergence in their passions separated them even for a night.

“Kel?” She was sitting up beside him now, too much space between them, a slight frown marring her forehead. Her face was flushed beneath the sun she carried, skin warmer than usual, still and dewy. “What’s wrong?”

Lis’s gaze was bottomless dark and she chewed on her lower lip. He wondered, for the first time since he kissed her that day at the cove, what it would be like to kiss her hard, to do the worrying on her flesh for her.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, casting the uncharacteristic thought away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

After she left, Kel found he couldn’t sleep. He prowled his rooms, drove himself through a dozen training forms, before settling in his armchair, alternatively glaring at his tangled sheets and reading. Somewhere before dawn shook the night of doubts and cast them into the sun, he finally drifted into that curious edge of the Fade where dreams begin as echoes of waking.

And he dreamed of Lis, naked and writhing across his bed, hands moving with expert languor over her own burning flesh, while he sat watching, still and unmoved in the chair at the foot of the bed.

“Kel?”

Her voice woke him, the same syllable, the cadence different than the soft moans still echoing from his dream. Kel fought himself free of the Fade, body heavy and stupid, forgetful of himself, eyes full of grit. He was in his rooms, he realized. His book had fallen open in his lap, his arms on top, stressing the spine, digging one corner of the heavy volume into his thigh hard enough to bruise.

“Good morning , sleepyhead.” Lis stood over him, smile on her face, a long lock of hair falling forward to tease his cheek. She had already been out in the garden, and she smelled like dew, fresh and green. “Fell asleep in your chair again, huh?”

She smirked. 

“You really are an old man.” Fergus told him so, and often. “You are going to be so stiff.”

_Right._

She leaned in to buss a kiss to his forehead, hand reaching for the book in his lap before Kel could gather his wits enough to stop her.

“Oh.” Lis’s eyes went wide and Kel’s entire body blushed crimson. “I’m sorry.”

She froze, fingers still brushing against his erection, gaze skittering away. He knew she didn’t know what to do. Maker, take him, _he_ didn’t know what to do. They had talked about this. His body didn’t seem capable of experiencing arousal with anyone he wanted it to, but dreams—nameless, faceless figments of the libido he couldn’t seem to muster when waking—still left him hard and aching as many mornings as not. It didn’t matter.

Except that suddenly it did.

“Kel.”

He had never heard her voice so small, so uncertain, and though she wouldn’t meet his eyes, her cheeks were even brighter than his felt.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered again, stumbling back a safe distance that felt anything but safe.

The book fell from her hand, dropped hard enough against him that Kel winced. Lis grimaced in silent apology right along with him, but she rallied. Andraste bless her, the woman was stalwart.

“You said this happened sometimes,” she blurted. “Dreams.”

He reached for the heavy volume, hands cautious, holding the book between them like a shield. His body betrayed him, cock twitching against his knuckles while Lis’s gaze spun dark and wide. 

“I did,” Kel managed, absurdly proud that his voice was even. 

She was too far away; she needed to go.

As if she’d heard him, Lis nodded sharply, and he could all but hear her repeating _it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything_ over and over in her head.

“Just dreams,” she said then, more to herself than him before finding a smile to give him, and humbling with him with her compassion. “I...I should give you some privacy.”

She was across the room before he could crack a word past the lump in his throat, hand on the door long before he found the breath, the courage, to give her the confession he didn’t yet fully understand.

“I dreamed of you, Lis.”

“You what?”

Her shoulders hunched for half a breath before she forced them back, lifting her chin in defiance of whatever she was thinking. Kel found himself willing her to turn around, to face him, to remind him that whatever happened between them was something they would meet together.

“I dreamed of you,” he repeated roughly, body still begging for her. _Her_ , not some Fade phantom, not some physical impulse he hardly connected with. Her accidental touch had been so brief, but he felt branded with it, wanted to beg her for more.

“What does that mean?” she asked, voice so carefully neutral that Kel couldn’t decide if he was relieved or that much more frustrated.

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t. Couldn’t. This had never happened before. He had long viewed his dreams as simple biology, his contrary body’s way of indulging in basic drives that Kel himself didn’t feel. _They had talked about this._ Maker’s breath, they had talked about this so much that he had almost been comfortable with his own oddity.

And now…

She turned back to him, a gentle smile in her dark eyes. “I’ll give you some privacy,” she repeated. “We’ll catch up later?”

She reached for the doorknob again, stare darting into the early morning shadows, graceful fingers curling against the brass and Kel was near dumbstruck by the jolt of what could only be longing. Sheer, unfettered lust. He wanted her hands on him. Now.

But now was certainly too soon for either of them.

“Lis!”

She glanced back over her shoulder, brows winging, smile a cautious soaring. “Yeah?” 

“I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about you.”

His entire body was flaming with the confession, face so hot he could hardly breathe. But he owed her the truth. Not telling her felt like using her, felt like having something of her without her consent, and whatever Kel ever had of Lis, he wanted it to be given freely and honestly and often.

The immediacy of her blush was far more gratifying than it should have been, and his body appreciated it just as much as the rest of him.

“I think I rather like that,” she murmured, ducking her head so that the dark cascade of her hair fell forward to hide her face. “Evens the field a little, don’t you think?”

“I…”

They had discussed that too of course, Lis leading the conversation with her trademark practicality and several arms’ lengths between them. Sometimes, when their kissing became too much, he even teased her a little, kissed her just once more after she broke away, whispered _think of me_ before whichever one them was doing the leaving made it to the door. He knew she did—Void take him, he had felt it was a point of connection, a way of being with her when he couldn’t—but he hadn’t fully understood what it was like for her, watching him leaving when she wanted nothing more than for him to stay.  

And now, he wanted. He wasn’t sure what—her, always her—but for the first time since he allowed himself to accept the gift of her love, that meant something else.

He just didn’t know what.

“Yeah,” he said tightly, mind reeling, body still reminding him that she had touched him, _she had touched him_ and that she hadn’t done so nearly enough. “I guess it does.”


	2. Wondering

Lis spent the rest of the day in a haze. She should have been too busy helping her mother with plans for Summerday to worry as she did, but by the time dinner passed without a sign of Kel, she was a mess of nerves. An hour with a pair of training dummies didn’t helped, nor the subsequent hour spent in the kitchen garden tending herbs and potting mint for her window sill. By the time the moons rose high over Castle Cousland, Lis had run herself as ragged as she could without a good storm to fight or wind to seek. She felt trapped, the walls of the castle too high, too stalwart.  She threw herself into long deferred chores, cleaned her room, finally unpacking her trunks from so many years at sea. There were books to shelve and alphabetize, trinkets and shells and bones from mysterious sea creatures left to catalog. She worked until her eyes blurred and the night spun heavy and yawning, hoping for a quiet knock on her door, a softly murmured greeting, that never came.

“No help for it,” she muttered, rolling over, punching her pillow in frustration.

She didn’t know how long she had been tossing in bed, heart restless, body yearning, legs tangling in the sheets, but she knew she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Her pillows still smelled like his soap, rosemary and evergreen haunting her with the last night he had spent there, his arms snug around her, body flush against the curve of hers. They’d not spent a night apart since she returned to Highever, and his absence wounded, frayed at fears and doubts she hadn’t expected to have.

She hadn’t seen him all day, annoying really, but something not improbable given how busy the keep was as the holiday approached. There had been several days in the past fortnight that she had barely caught a glimpse of him before dinner. She was worried for nothing.

But he had dreamed of her. Dreamed. of. Her. And the long course of the day had kept them apart, left her wondering and anxious. What did that even mean? Why hadn’t she asked? She had somehow managed to keep her wits about—even with her absolutely addled brain swooning and panting like a not-yet-pledged Chantry sister seeing her first bit of a man. She had been bold enough to smile at him, to offer him privacy, to ignore her own blushing and encourage him to continue thinking of her as he—

Maker’s breath. What had she been thinking?

Certainty settled like a stone in her stomach and Lis suddenly knew exactly why she hadn’t seen him all day. She shouldn’t have flirted, shouldn’t have teased. They had talked about this, she reminded herself for had to be the five _hundredth_ time, but only now did the thought sink cold as a stone in the pit of her stomach. _They had talked about this._ It didn’t mean anything. He had dreams, dreams of no one real and no one special, dreams that upon waking left him with the evidence of his body’s functionality and nothing else.  He had told her, voice grim enough to break her heart, that he felt completely detached from his body in those moments. As if he were being forced to feel things he knew he didn’t feel, some trick of the Fade, some cruel magic. Touching himself wasn’t something he enjoyed, just a practical means to getting past an annoyance. A cold bath worked just as well but was more difficult to come by. Lis had nearly wept just listening to him.

And now she was in his dreams.

No wonder he was avoiding her. She would be avoiding her too.

“Merciful Andraste, please don’t let him be hurting.”

Lis wasn’t much for prayer. She believed in the Maker, it was impossible to travel across the face of the Deep and not feel the heartbeat of something more than herself, but she didn’t know if she believed in the god of Chantry. Still, Kel did and if she ever prayed for anyone it was him.

Caleb offered a questioning whine from the floor by her bed and Lis shook her head, fighting her way free of the sheets.

“It’s alright,” she assured the mabari, certain the words were a lie. She owed Kel the world’s biggest apology, could only hope he could forgive her.

She had promised to never pressure him, and now, two weeks into what she wanted desperately to believe was Happily Ever After, she had—

Maker, it didn’t bear thinking on. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry._ Lis threw on a summer robe, belting the green linen tightly around her waist, her remorse a mantra repeating in her head as she darted out into the shadowed corridor. Caleb followed her as far as Kel’s door before Lis nodded him toward the garden.

“Go on.”

He cocked a skeptical ear.

“It’s alright.” _Please, let it be alright._ “Go chase rabbits or something, but don’t mess up mother’s petunias.”

Caleb licked her hand, blew a sigh against her fingers and lumbered off, toenails clicking faintly against stone.

“It’ll be alright,” Lis repeated to herself before raising one shaking hand.

The door opened after the first faint knock and Kel stood in the narrow shadow, looking no better than she felt, but gorgeous with it. His fiery hair was disheveled, sleep pants rumpled, even the tired blue of his gaze was soft as a summer evening as it darted past her shoulder. The room was dark beyond him, and he held a single burning candle. It was obvious he hadn’t slept either.

“Kel—“

“Lis—“

He caught her by the elbow before she could finish speaking, yanked her into the room and closed the door with silent abruptness. The candle flame flickered, warm and tawny, throwing into sharp relief the broad planes and blunt angles of his face. She saw only sorrow in those shadows.

Lis glanced away.

“I’m sorry!” they blurted together.

Wait. What? Lis blinked at him in the low light. “Why are you sorry?”

“What in the Maker’s name do you have to be sorry for?”

They spoke in another rush, words tangling together in a tumble of haste. She bit back whatever else she had planned to say, gulped down a breath and waited for him to speak again.

“Lis?”

Kel’s voice was low and quiet; his breath stirred her hair. He was standing so close that if she’d been brave enough to meet the uncertainty in his eyes, she would have had to tip her head back to see. So close she could feel the heat of his body, and damn them both, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She felt herself reaching for him and stopped, could only hope he didn’t feel as betrayed by the impulse as she did.

“Lis,” Kel said again, her name on his lips was so gentle a touch she wanted to lean into the offering. “What are you sorry for?”

“This morning.” Lis pushed past him, stalking into the safety of the shadows of his room so that he couldn’t see the longing in her eyes.

“What about this morning?” he asked gruffly.

Confession first. Wasn’t that the way it went? Then a chance at repentance, a prayer of forgiveness.

“I pushed you,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers closing on the fabric of her robe, tightening into fists at her sides. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Flirting with you like that. Making light of what I know—“

She had wronged him terribly. “I’m so sorry, Kel. Even after you told me how those dreams made you feel, I just…”

“Lis! What? No—“

He took two sharp steps toward her, the candle flame flickering in his rush. “Do you really believe you’ve done something wrong?”

“Didn’t I?” Hadn’t she?

“No.” His fingers brushed her elbow, a silent appeal. “And you didn’t seem upset this morning.”

“Of course I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking about anything this morning but—“ Her cheeks felt hot, and then her entire body seemed to blush.  Andraste’s knickers the tops of her feet felt hot.

“Yeah, well.” He nudged her closet foot with his, bare toes stroking fire against her ankle; Lis shivered. “I wasn’t either.”

He reached for her with both hands, flame bobbing when he bumped her arm with the brass candleholder. “Dammit, just—“

Kel hurried her across the room, the quick pace surprising her. He was--as far as she could remember--never in a hurry.

“Lis.” He set the candle on the bedside table, ran one hand through his hair. “You have to know...you were perfect this morning.”

“I—“

“Perfect,” he insisted. “And until you showed up looking as if I’d broken your heart, I had been able to think of little else. What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t see you today,” she mumbled.

“Nor I you.” He reached for her but Lis stepped away. “Your parents have the entire keep in a frenzy.”

“I thought you were avoiding me.” Before he could deny it she shook her head. “Then I realized you had every right to be.”

“Why in the world…?” He scrubbed one hand over his eyes. “I’m not mad at you. Are you mad at me?”

“No!”

He dropped his hand with a cautious smile. “If you’re not mad me, and I’m not mad at you, then nothing else matters.”

Kel caught her wrist with a gentle hand.

“Of course it matters!” Lis insisted, though for the life of her she wasn’t sure what mattered now. She hadn’t wounded him with her impetuousness, _that_ was all that mattered to her.

“Fine,” he agreed, thoughts following so closely with hers. “But it can matter in a minute. Maker’s breath, come _here._ ”

He pulled her toward him and Lis went gladly, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to the warmth of his chest.

“You’re not upset with _me_ , are you?”

“How could I be upset with you?” Lis chuckled. “Until I realized what a complete ass I’d been, I spent a good part of the day unable to think of anything but how I’d left you this morning. Of course I’m not upset with you.”

“You weren’t an ass.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I believe I flirted with you first, though I’m not very good at it. Should I have been clearer?”

“I think,” Lis said, breath and courage held. “That you should tell me how you feel about this dream and about this morning.”

“I think.” Kel brushed a kiss atop her head. “That I would like that. How much do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” She looked up, chin bumping warm skin. He smelled like summer, light sweat and evergreens, something earthy. When she finally--finally--met his gaze, Lis saw that he was blushing too. “I mean, this is new, right?”

“Very new.”

He leaned down, arms behind her back lifting her enough that he didn’t have to stoop. He brushed his lips over hers, soft and wondering.

“Very, very new.”

She didn’t know what he was feeling, but Maker, she wanted to.

“Was it…?” Lis huffed a breath against the end of a painfully sweet kiss. “Did you hate that it was me?”

Kel frowned down at her and she cursed the shadows that obscured his forthright gaze. “What?”

“The disconnect,” she whispered. “Did you hate that the dream that caused…”

She pulled away, suddenly too agitated to remain. Lis paced across the room and stared into the deeper black of the cold hearth.

“We’ve talked about this,” she reminded him.

“We have.” He followed quietly. “But Lis...there wasn’t any disconnect.”

“Really?” She turned back to face him, tried to school her face into something neutral.

“I don’t know, Lis.” Kel shrugged helplessly. “Maybe if I hadn’t woken up to find you standing over me it would have been different, but for the first time since I was thirteen, I absolutely agreed with what my body was insisting it wanted.”

“Oh.” _Oh._

He took a shaky breath. “You’re going to have to give me more than ‘oh’.”

“That’s not what she said,” Lis quipped.

“Nice.” Kel smirked. “And _now_ that might be something we could work on.”

He looked absurdly proud of himself for a single heartbeat before he lost all bravado, blushing furiously beneath Lis’s gaping regard.

“ _Ser Gilmore!”_ She placed one hand over her heart, affected a swoon into the chair at the foot of the bed. The chair she had found him just that morning, dreaming of her.

“I shouldn’t be joking.” She fidgeted with her robe, made certain it was tightly closed.

“I think we’re both due for some joking,” Kel disagreed, crouching down before her. “Especially if we’re also talking.”

“This is a big deal,” Lis said.

“I think so.”

“It changes things.” She reached for his hand, drew him close. He knelt just beyond her knees, arms resting across her thighs, and Lis fought every impulse not to part her legs, not to beg him closer. “But it doesn’t.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

“We should talk about what you want.”

She didn’t trust herself to do the same. She wanted too much. Everything, all at once, as much he would take, as much as he would give.

“I want you,” Kel said, boldly, clearly.

“I want you too.” She ran her fingers over the scruff of his jaw, and he turned his face, placed a warm kiss on her palm that was anything but chaste.

“But you were content with kissing me forever.”

“Yes. And I still will be, but you already know that you stir more than that in me.” She closed her eyes. “Anything you want of me, you’ve only to ask.”

“And what if I want all of you?”

Lis’s heart kicked hard and sudden in her chest, filled her ears with a chorus of need. “Well then I’d say we should go slow, maybe not do everything tonight.”

She smiled. “And we should definitely look into a pregnancy preventative.”

“Maker’s breath, woman!” There was laughter in his voice, but she knew she’d surprised him. “Do you have to be so practical?”

“I do.” She let go of him to run anxious hands over the rough texture of the chair’s upholstery, gripped the arms so hard that the frame protested. “The alternative might frighten you.”

“I don’t scare quite that easily, Lis.” His knuckles brushed against the outside of her knees, slow, careful. When she didn’t flinch, he settled closer, chest a solid weight against her shins. “If I did, this morning would have gone very differently.”

“Did you…?” Lis took a slow breath. If they couldn’t talk about sex, they damn sure didn’t need to be having it. “Did you enjoy yourself? After I left I mean?”

Kel smiled and she couldn’t keep her eyes closed any longer, she had to see him, had to see the light in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks.

“I did,” he bit his bottom lip. “Something of a new experience for me. One that I think I’d enjoy more with you, but there’s no rush on that.”

He rubbed her knee absently with his chin. When his sigh stirred the thin fabric of her robe, Lis jumped.

“No, don’t,” she caught him before he could pull away, fingers tangling lightly in his hair. “May I ask what you’d dreamed?”

He closed his eyes, settled back into her touch, and the night settled in around them, quiet and hallowed, the whole world receding until there was only them.

“I dreamed of you,” he confessed softly. “Naked in my bed.”

Lis swallowed hard. “With you?” she asked so quietly, so breathlessly that when he didn’t immediately answer, she feared he hadn’t heard.

“Not quite,” Kel murmured, lips brushing against worn linen. His hands were on her calves now, stroking up and down, a maddening friction meant to soothe at least one of them. It was having the exact opposite effect on Lis. “You were…”

He cleared his throat before soldiering on. “You were touching yourself.”

Her hands clenched in his hair and Lis let go, murmuring apologies that he tried to wave away as he continued. “At least the way I imagine you do when you leave my room, or send me from yours. Andraste, preserve me, I don’t even know what you look like naked, Lis, and yet I dreamed…”

“ _Oh._ ”

“It was confusing. I was so mad when you left last night, so unbelievably frustrated. Not at you—“ he added quickly, punctuating his reassurance with another kiss to her robe shrouded knee.. “But that you had to leave. That I couldn’t…” he shook his head, hair sliding like silk through her greedy fingers. “Then I dreamed of you…”

“Oh.”

“And in my dream I was sitting in this same chair watching you, completely unaffected and all I could think was how false that was. How _wrong_. So what if I didn’t want to fuck you—“

The coarse word was harsh in the and Kel shook his head again, cast it from the sacred, trembling intimacy of the moments spinning close about them.

“Even if I didn’t want to make love to you, Lis, there’s no way I could watch you like that and feel nothing.” He placed one hand over his heart. “I would feel something here at least. You’re so beautiful, Lis, and I love you so much. I want to be with you, share whatever of yourself you want to give me. And last night I wanted you in my bed, naked. I wanted to watch you, learn you…”

“Kel…” He had to stop; he was going to destroy her with his earnestness.

“It seems my body did too.”

“Oh, Kel.”  Lis didn’t know what else to say.

“Again with the ohs.”

“For my sake, you better get used to the ohs.”

She parted her knees, just enough that he could slide between them, chest against the front of the chair. Her robe fell to the sides, fabric pooling to the seat beside her, not quite baring her completely, but his arms were still across the tops of her thighs, and now skin lay against eager skin.

“Lis?”

“Hush,” she said, midly. “Just sit a minute. Maker, Kel, I’m reeling.”

“You look awfully cool for someone who’s reeling.”

“I am trying not to pounce on you, if you must know,” Lis huffed. “I mean obviously I’ll take your lead on everything and anything you might want to try, but…” She shook her head, stared over him and into the deepening midnight shadows. “Maker, I figured I’d be a virgin for a while, maybe forever unless you wanted kids and then there are potions and tonics and I figured it would be something quick that I wouldn’t enjoy out of solidarity with you and—“

“Fucking hell, Lis!” Kel gasped, snatching her attention back to him. He blinked up at her, jaw almost comically slack. “You really did think about all of this.”

“Of course I did.” She smiled. “I told you I want you. _A life with you_. No matter what that life is. Didn’t you believe me?”

She knew that he had, but perhaps he hadn’t fully understood her commitment.

“You want children with me?” he whispered.

“Someday. I mean…if you want. You’re good with kids, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you want your own, and we also wouldn’t have to _have_ our own. I mean there’s adoption and…”

“Maker’s breath, woman.”

He moved fast enough to startle, but Lis was far past that. When his hands tangled in her hair, she sighed in relief, and when he dragged her forward—gently! So damn gently—she wanted to weep. He leaned in even as he tugged her closer, until she was bent over her legs, her breasts brushing lightly against his arms.

“I love you,” he murmured against the quiver of her bottom lip. “I don’t deserve you, but I love you so damn much. You know that right?”

“You do too deserve me,” Lis countered.

He kissed her before she could reply to any of the rest, long and sweet and new, until she had to break away or drown in him.

Maker, her forgive her, she was looking forward to drowning in him.

“Lis?”

She smiled, nudged him back gently with one foot.

“Why don’t we start simply?” She stood up, and dear, sweet Andraste, he was still too close. The sight of him kneeling at her feet, nearly turned her knees to water. She pushed the chair back with her calves enough to take a half step back. “You said something about not actually knowing what I look like naked.”

“Lis.” She couldn’t quite read his tone in that thick syllable, but the look in his eyes was more than enough.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” she said, reaching for the belt of her robe. “Hush.”


	3. Learning

“Lis?” Kel’s heart was in his throat as he stared up at her and no matter how many times he tried to swallow it back, the frantic organ continued to beat, hard and fast and near to choking him.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” she said, smile soft and secret in the faint candlelight. “Hush.”

She was standing before him like some sort of ancient goddess, long hair tumbling in wild dark waves around her shoulders. The hem of her robe brushed against his knees, and as much as the shadows seemed to love her, Kel wished for more light, jealous of the way the night clung to every curve. Her hands were poised with easy grace on her belt and he suspected that the floor-length fall of green linen was the only thing between her and his—starving? Why did he feel as if he were starving for her?—gaze.

Kel hushed. He had never expected for them to be here, never expected to want her, or anyone for that matter, quite this way. Now that he did, he couldn’t seem to think of anything else. He had been useless all day, barely fit for drills and duty, and truth be told, he had been rather pleased.

Until now. Now, the embodiment of his newfound desire was standing close enough that he could all but taste her with every breath, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted her too much, or with the exact magnitude that she deserved.

“You’re beautiful, Lis.”

He chose the word with care, knew that it held a wealth of bad memories when her beauty had been worthless and worse, but in the past few weeks he had been trying to rewrite those honest syllables, because she was. Even more so now that the life she’d always dreamed of had left its marks upon her skin.

“I, um…” Lis caught her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes falling closed on a sigh before she spoke again, words spilling like a rush of sunlight into the dark room, bright and heady. “I don’t know what you imagined, but, I have a lot of scars, worse than this one.” She wrinkled her lips toward the jagged line that ran up from her jaw, across rose and cream skin freckled from the sun, and up onto the high apple of her left cheek. “And I’m actually quite proud of them all, seeing as how they either taught me something or mean that I won.”

She huffed out a breath.

“Oh, and one of my breasts is the teensiest bit higher than the other.” She frowned thoughtfully. “But usually I think that’s because I favor my right shoulder.”

She shrugged then, breasts shifting gently and Kel wondered if he now was the time to tell her that he couldn’t see a single imperfection. And he was looking, Maker help him, he couldn’t stop looking.

“Old boom injury, and—“

“Lis.”

Her litany stumbled to a halt.

“What?” she nearly snarled the word at him and Kel grinned.

“You do know that I can just start imagining those scars and the teeniest bit droopy shoulder…and—“

“Never,” Lis teased, eyes flashing to meet his. “Use the word droopy near a lady’s breasts.”

“Never again,” he promised as solemnly as he could around his laughter.

She gave the bow at her waist a sharp tug and he reached up quickly to stop her before the rest of the tie came undone.

“What are you—?”

“Hush.” It was his turn to admonish. “Give me five minutes, Lis. It’s all new, remember? We don’t have to do everything at a dead run.”

His body disagreed, and Kel couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of his arousal—not when he had never expected them to be in accord about anything—but that didn’t mean they were at the mercy of his newly found libido. He wanted her naked, but that didn’t mean he had to have her naked right now.

“I thought…”

Kel offered her a hesitant smile, gave her back the words she had just given him. “Let’s start simple.”

He rose from the floor slowly, watched her eyes widen and her cheeks flush, and felt what little blood there was not currently in his cock rush to his face.

“Simple?” she asked.

“Simple.” He held one hand out to her, didn’t bother trying to hide the shudder of want that racked through him when her palm slid, a slow rasp, across his.

“Everything’s new,” he said again, trying to figure out how to explain that every precious, familiar touch was now gilded bright with a passion he had never thought to feel for anyone.

“Everything?”

All he could do was show her, and—Maker!—he had thought of nothing but that all day. Still, he moved slowly, just as she always did with him, giving her time to stop him, giving her time to pull away. He clung to her hand, reached up with the other to cradle the sharp line of her jaw, fingers flexing against the satin heat of her skin, the jagged line of the scar she had worn proudly since her first summer at sea. She leaned up on her toes, body bowing toward him like a blade of grass following the slant of the sun. The single step left between them was both torment and relief—there was still so much Kel was unsure of—but when bent forward, when he finally kissed her, the only doubt left in his heart was how in the world was he going to resist doing this every moment for the rest of their lives.

“Kel…”

His mouth had never been so greedy; he didn’t know how she managed to sigh his name, but he sipped it from her tongue, chased the little gasp that followed with gentle teeth. They had spent the better part of the past fourteen nights sealing promises between sweet reverent lips, and he had thought he knew every flavor of Lis, but this was different. This was both more and less somehow, every moment yawning wide and impossible, but rushing, grasping, ever for the next.  Her hands splayed across his chest, the familiar touch searing hungry flesh, and Kel startled, thumb near bruising against her jaw as he tipped her lips up for better entry.

“Fuck.” He put two steps between them before she could kiss him back. “Lis. I’m sorry.”

In all the nights since she first promised to woo him, he had never seen her quite like this. She was breathing hard, breasts rising and falling as if she were training in the yards. The deep v of her robe was parting, revealing not nearly enough fair skin to suit him, but for the first time he could see that her torso was so much paler than the rest of her. There were no freckles on the curves of her breasts, the broad line of her sternum. Her nipples were hard, peaks no larger than a bilberry pressing against the fabric, and he wanted to run his palms over them, couldn’t decide if he hoped to sooth or taunt.

He was certain he would know the moment he touched her.

“Kel?” Her eyes were wide and bottomless, lips swollen and dark red, bruised from his avarice.

Maker’s breath, what she must think! He had never kissed her like that before.

“Why are you sorry?” Lis glowered at him, surly, hands still hovering between them. “Unless you mean for pulling away?”

“I…” Kel reached up, ran one shaking hand through his hair, took another step back just in case his judgment lapsed again. “Is it always like this for you?”

How did she function? He wanted to devour her. He wanted to drag her into his arms, feel every hard shift of muscle, every yield of softer flesh. He wanted to take the three steps between them and the bed and lay her down beneath him. He wanted—Merciful Andraste, he wasn’t quite comfortable with how much he wanted.

Lis stared at him for a long moment, then something shifted in her eyes and she smiled, no _beamed_ at him, as if she understood something he didn’t.

She probably did.

“Yes and no.” She dropped her arms, turned and walked back to his bed--and yes, he was staring at the subtle sway of her hips, and no, she wasn’t wearing a damn thing under that robe. She sat on the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

She patted the tangled covers beside her and Kel couldn’t help eyeing her in trepidation. Somehow the bed didn’t feel like starting slow.

“Truthfully?” she shrugged, seeming unconcerned when he lingered, and turning instead to answer his question. “I can’t really imagine what it’s like for you. I’ve wanted you for more years that you’d probably like to think about.”

She grinned, slid back far enough on the bed to fold one leg beneath her.  She swung the other one back and forth above the floor, toes pointed down, reaching for the rug. She never had gotten around to tying her robe back properly, and the dark fabric separated just a bit more with every nervous movement, casting her lap into shadow, revealing the scar on her thigh.

Kel bit back a groan.

“Which,” she continued fidgeting with the cuff of one sleeve, seemingly oblivious to the tug of linen from her shoulder.  “Is to your credit considering how young I was, but I guess what I mean is that I got to sort of grow into it. You’ve had most of a day.”

She shrugged again, a wayward lock of hair gliding over freckled skin, and Kel almost stopped her when she reached up to tug her robe back into place.

“Kel?”

“Yeah?” His voice was too rough, but it was honest.

“Tonight is yours,” she said, softly, holding one hand out to him. “I can go back to my room and have very sexy dreams about you.” She winked at him. “Or we can spend it the same way we have all the ones before or…”

“Or?”

She smiled hesitantly. “You can kiss me until I swoon again.”

“You…swooned?”

“Damn near.”

Her grin was wide and brazen and home. Kel took a careful step toward her, then another, and her gaze darted down his body, cheeks blooming bright rose before she covered her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry.” She stared up at him through her fingers. “I can’t stop thinking about you, about touching you this morning, about—“

If possible, his cock was even harder now, the soft confinement of his old sleep pants suddenly as coarse as a grain sack. Kel closed his eyes, resisted the impulse to run his palm over the swollen, needy length, just to give himself some relief.

“You know, no one ever said how damn awkward this would be!”

Kel chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

“Liar.” But when he opened his eyes she was still grinning at him, utterly unabashed.  “At least I haven’t turned you off.”

“No.” Did he squeak when he said that? “You certainly haven’t.”

And the odds, Kel was beginning to believe, of that happening were very low. He settled down beside her gingerly, adjusting his sleep pants while she made a show of appearing not to watch his every move.

“Liar,” he mocked softly, drawing one leg up before him, shifting so that his knee was against her shin, and they were again face to cherished face.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his bottom lip.

She smelled like roses and mint, some spice he never remembered to ask the name of. He wanted everything, at once, but Kel held the confession back, afraid that he would shock her.

“Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of natural progression to this sort of thing?” he asked, words muffled by her nearness.

Lis smiled. “Even if there is, I don’t think we count.” Her voice was low, husky, and he didn’t think he had ever seen her eyes so dark.  “We have every foundation we need”

Years of friendship, lifetimes of certainty. She was right. They had everything they needed.

“From here,” she said softly. “The only thing that matters is that we’re on the same page.”

She brushed a kiss over his jaw, light as gossamer and bright as lightning, zig-zagging through him in a blaze of heat and longing. If they were on the same page, it was a wonder they didn’t go up in flames.

“I want you to touch me,” she murmured, leaning closer, breath hot and trembling beneath his ear. “As much as you want. And I want to touch you...”

She was nearly in his lap, but for the maddening drag of her belt over his lap, she had yet to touch him with anything but her lips.

“However you want me to.”

“I…” Kel rubbed her cheek with his. She was so soft. So damn sweet. His. He had never thought himself a covetous man, but maybe there was reverence in the word, rather than possession. “I don’t want to scare you.”

As if he believed anything could frighten Elissa Cousland. Still, he worried. What he was feeling was so new, and utterly consuming. If he was overwhelmed inside his own head, then how would she feel?

“You can’t,” she confirmed, taking a moment to simply breathe with him. “But if it’s too much for you, if you need to regroup, or you want me to go, that’s more than alright.”

She nuzzled against his jaw with a little sigh. “I had years to adjust to my longing for you.” Kel shivered at at the confession. “We have time, I promise. You can take as much as you—“

He captured her lips with his, coaxed her forward with lips and tongue until her hands settled on his thighs and the front of her robe brushed against his chest.

“I don’t want time.” He vowed against her lips, taking, tasting, searching for the best ways to make her sigh and move restlessly in his arms. “I want you.”

His hands were in her hair--he didn’t remember reaching for her--but now he was cradling her head in careful fingers, nails scraping lightly at the back of her neck as she shuddered against him.

“Then we’ll go slow.”  

She broke away with a quavering sigh before pushing him back onto the bed. Kel silently cursed the distance between them before she followed him down, fitting her body beside him. Close, but not quite where he wanted her.

“Nothing below the belt tonight.”

She dragged her gaze up the line of his body, lips twisting with chagrin. “No matter how much we both might want more.”

“I can’t say I like your wisdom,” Kel said, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her in so tight that her breasts flattened against his chest, worn linen a negligible barrier between their skin, but still a maddening impediment. “But I can’t argue with it. What about…?”

“About…?”

“When things get too much?”

Lis grinned, mischief bright in her cheeks. “We’ll suffer together tonight.” She elbowed him. “You know…just because your body gets all riled up doesn’t mean you have to give it what it wants.”

“Thanks for that,” Kel said drily.

“Any time.” She propped herself up on one arm, touched his face with gentle fingers.

Following a hunch, he caught her thumb with his teeth, ran his tongue gently around the tip. Lis’s gasp was loud in the quiet room.

“I believe you asked for swooning.”


	4. Waking

Lis drifted slowly toward wakefulness as thunder rumbled low over the Waking Sea and the wind swept in through the open window of her bedroom, snapping gently at rain damp curtains.  Summer was firmly upon Highever and she had thrown the covers off sometime during the night, her tunic too, but Maker she was still warmer than she should have been with the windows open and the air rain-drenched and—

She had to still be dreaming; he wasn’t really here. The warmth at her back was just a trick of the Fade, the distracted imaginings of one sleep-starved, lust-addled woman. Lis bowed her back toward him, fully expecting the last lingering of fantasy to dissipate as she woke more fully. It had been a week since things changed between them, a week of not sleeping in the same bed, of keeping careful distance as he adjusted to wanting her as much as she wanted him.  A week of realizing that his desires only magnified hers, and hers his, until there was barely a thought between them that wasn’t “how much can we have?” “how much do we dare?”

They had stayed up too late the night before, lying with legs tangled and arms entwined, kissing and talking until the moons began their descent, watching lightening paint the sky over the headland. She had been dozing when he mentioned leaving, and she had mumbled some whole-hearted invitation that she hoped he wouldn’t, but had expected him to ignore.

“You’re really here?” she breathed.

“I am,” he mumbled sleepily, chin moving gently on her shoulder auburn stubble rasping sensitive skin. “Good morning.”

Lis yawned, stretched carefully within the gentle cage of his body, not wanting him to move away, not wanting to lose this unexpected gift. “Good morning to you too.”

Kel’s arm was around her, his chest flattened to her back. Their legs were fitted together as close as fine silver, nestled in velvet lined drawers. He had one hand spread wide over bare ribs, fingers pinned beneath the weight of her breast and the mattress, but his thumb was free, stroking in lazy eddies across pebbled skin.

“When did I lose my shirt?”

His laughter was warm against her neck.  “Sometime in the middle of the night. I tried to stop you but you were still asleep. You may have growled at me.”

“Should I apologize for my forward ways?” she grinned.

“Not unless I owe you an apology for my hands.” He squeezed her side gently and she arched back, seeking greater contact.

“You never,” Lis sighed. “Ever. Need to apologize for your hands.

She turned her face up to him for a kiss and for a moment all thought was lost. He tugged gently on her lower lip, and Lis opened her mouth, waited for the patient slide of his tongue before she caught him with her lips, sucked lightly until his groan echoed darkly against her teeth. She had wanted him before—seemed she had wanted him forever—but this, this was rapidly bordering on some sort of madness.

“Lis?” Kel broke away with a rough inhale, but he pulled her closer, one arm beneath her head, the other snaking tighter around her waist, carrying his restless fingers away from equally restless landscapes and for a long moment, he simply held her in the thrumming quiet.

“Hhmmmm?”

She sank back against him with a wordless rumble of contentment, stared through barely cracked eyes at the lightening room.  She wasn’t in the habit of staying in bed, not when he was out there waiting for her, but now that she knew she wasn’t dreaming, Lis was in no hurry to rush from the quiet haven of his arms and out into morning.

“This,” she said, with a sigh.

She was home— _he_ was home—and while she might one day feel again the call of the waves, right now there was nowhere she wanted to be. Dawn shrouded Castle Cousland like mist, sheer and silvered by the soft fall of an early morning storm.

“As much as I like the new stuff.” And Maker! Did she like the new stuff. “This is what I’ve missed all week.”

By the Lady! She had missed him. Missed waking in his arms, listening to the keep stir to life.  Already she could smell bread baking, the pungent rise of yeast going sweet with rich grains balancing the rain and salt-drenched air.  Lis rubbed her cheek on his arm and settled closer, skin shifting along sweat-slicked skin. Detaching was going to be fun, she thought wryly. If she ever bothered to try to move.

“I don’t want to move.”

“Me either.” Kel’s voice was thick and low. He nuzzled his lips to her ear, placed a kiss beneath the lobe before whispering, “Are you trying to start something?”

His hand trailed back across her stomach, then over the rise of her hip, weapon-roughened fingertips spreading heat and electricity. He pressed gently but insistently, steadying her for a single fractured breath and Lis realized that she had been moving her hips in slow, searching undulations.

“Not on purpose.” And Andraste’s knickers, she was glad he couldn’t see her blush in the low light. “But now that I’m paying attention...”

She rocked back more deliberately this time, felt his erection growing steadily against her backside. She still couldn’t quite believe she could have such an effect on him.

“What if I am?” she asked, trusting he could hear the smile in her voice.

He groaned, the low sound rumbling from his chest and into her back.

“Then I should remind you of how I’ve spent every morning this week,” he chuckled, placing a wide open kiss on her neck, teasing her with wonderful and wicked imaginings. 

As if she needed him to.  Her imagination was relentless now, and fantasies of Kel’s broad hands stroking her name from his lips had kept Lis company every night after they left each other.  He knew, of course. She had been returning the favor when she could, teasing him with the count of how many orgasms she had given herself while thinking of him. She liked to choose inopportune moments, a teasing “two” or “three” murmured as she passed him at his post.

“I should also warn you,” Kel said, ducking his head to press his cheek to her shoulder blade. “That I won’t be able to take quite so much torment this morning before I have to go.”

They had gotten better at talking about it, though there were still moments when their boldness failed them, when cheeks heated and tongues tangled around solemn revelations and cautious questions.

“What if you didn’t?” Lis asked, shifting her hips in a slow, deliberate movement. Kel’s breath rushed past her ear, and his fingers clenched, nails digging slightly into her skin, eliciting a moan that she couldn’t hide. “What if we just…”

Lis swayed back again, boldly, sliding her ass up and down the length of his erection until he let her go and she realized he was clutching the sheets in one hand. The fabric of his sleep pants was soft, so worn and thin with age that it might not have been there at all. It took so little for her to imagine it completely gone, to imagine feeling nothing but heat and hard taut flesh.

“What about you?” he asked on a ragged exhale.

She hadn’t dared hope he would accept; Lis’s heart hammered hard behind her ribs, dizzying in its fervor. She might have pitied it if she could breathe. She moved her arm beneath his, stretched her hand toward the juncture of her thighs.

“I can reach,” she said quietly enough that she hoped he couldn’t hear how the words quavered.

“Alright.” 

Kel’s voice was dark, needy, and Lis felt her heart lodge somewhere near her throat. She drew in a shaky breath, fingers curling against her stomach in anticipation.

“But I’m going to need my other arm.”

She shifted just enough for him to pull his arm from beneath her head. She waited as he propped up on his elbow, sighing as muscles settled into new and closer patterns. He tugged lightly at the ends of her hair with his now freed hand, until she turned her face as much toward him as she could. Lis pursed her lips in askance, waiting for his kiss, trying not to curse the position that afforded so much and yet so little touch.

“I want to see you.”

He ducked his head toward her, eyes fixed firmly on hers, blue and grey tumbling like the faltering storm outside. Lis lifted her chin, ignoring the protesting angle to brush her lips over his.

“Then look.”

This wasn’t quite how she had planned for him to see her completely naked for the first time, but Lis couldn’t exactly complain, not when she was lying safe in his arms, body humming with want. She eased her top leg up, slipped her ankle back over his calf letting him take the weight of her bent knee, and spreading her thighs wide.  

“This alright?” she asked breathlessly.

His hand trailed from her hip to her knee, and he gave her a comforting squeeze.

“More than alright. Are you certain?”

His gaze remained on her face and she knew that he wouldn’t look at the rest of her until she was sure.

“Never been more certain.”

Kel placed a kiss on her shoulder before he moved carefully behind her, rumbled something wordless that sounded like praise as he leaned up over her the long curving line of her body.

“Maker’s breath, Lis.” There was wonder in his voice, a reverence that humbled her and brought tears stinging her eyes. “You. Are. Perfect.”

She knew she wasn’t—he wasn’t either—but the moment spun soft and wondrous and she believed that somehow they both had to be.

“Perfect,” he repeated, as if she might argue with him.

He tangled one hand in her hair, caught her chin with the other, held her fast as he kissed her hard just once before his lips went gentle and sweet with worship.  Lis trembled in his arms, fought through a fog of pleasure to maintain the slow rhythm of her hips. She slid one hand slowly—so slowly!—down the soft plane of her stomach, felt his chest go rigid against her back, breath stoppered in expectation.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The words had become a familiar refrain in the week that had passed before, as much from curiosity as a constant consideration between the two of them. A question Lis usually answered in euphemism and what meager poetry her coarse speech could offer him. 

Not this morning.

Lis brushed blunt nails through damp, dark curls and for a moment, she couldn’t tell which of them trembling.

“Lis?”

She swallowed hard.

“I’m so wet, Kel.” Maker! Was that husky admission hers? She pushed back against him with a moan. “And you feel amazing.”

She could think of nothing but touching him, had barely stopped herself from reaching between them, but dammit, she wasn’t rushing them. There was time.

Why didn’t she feel as if there was time?

“So do you.” He bit a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, gently, but with enough teeth that Lis nearly keened.  “Where can I touch you?”

“There,” Lis gasped. She caught his hand in fumbling fingers, brought it up to her breasts. “And here—“

Her breath exploded from her with the first hesitant brush of his fingers. “Yes. Please. There.”

She needed more hands. She couldn’t touch him enough, and Andraste, help her, he wasn’t touching her enough, though he was trying.  She made a little sound, something caught between distress and exultation.

“Here,” Kel promised, touching her with infinite tenderness before he lifted her fingers to his lips for a brief kiss. He slid their hands back down the curves of her body toward her sex. “I want yours here.”

He thrust forward then, and Lis groaned, pushing back in with frustrated groan of sheer want. She watched his hand trace along the deadened curve of a particularly bad scar and shuddered. She was floating, somehow outside of herself and at once more rooted to her body than she had ever been.

“Kel…” Her eyes searched wildly for through the slowly brightening gloom and her breath left her in a rush.

“What’s wrong?” He went still and she growled at him, hips canting back seeking greater friction.

“Lis?” The laughter in his tone suggested he wasn’t worried.

Outside the storm was breaking and sunlight was stretching across the floor, a slant of silver brightening to gold as the clouds burned away.  Kel traced a tan line at her shoulder, his face an artist’s study of high cheekbones, strong sharp nose. His lips were full, fuller with a kiss’s wish, and his hair shone like copper as a lock fell forward to brush across his jaw.

“You’re beautiful,” she said.

His eyes were bottomless as the deep, and yet still unable to contain the furor of emotion they reflected back at her. Lis caught his hand, laced their fingers together, and watched the shift of strong muscles beneath a heavy covering of freckles. There was a faint scar across the back of his knuckles. She had so many more than he did, and for one shockingly clear moment she was glad. He was her knight, but she would always see herself as his protector.

 “ _You_ are beautiful,” he countered, gaze holding hers so earnestly that she didn’t have the breath to correct him.

 “I love you.” She reached for his face, twisting her head and shoulders toward him as much as she could without breaking the seal of their hips. “You know how much?”

“I might have some idea.”

He kissed her gently, then with urgency, and Lis closed her eyes, fell into a thousand sensations, some old, some new, all cast into sharper intensity by the intimacy of the morning. His hips rocked forward in question and she pushed back, picking up the rhythm they had temporarily lost, trying to drive him back to those first moments of overwhelming desire.

“Lis.”

Void take her, she wanted him—now , forever, and more, always more.

“Not without you.”

She frowned when Kel released her hand. It took her a moment to catch up, to realize what he meant. He reached above her head with his other arm, searching for half numb fingers still tangled in her disheveled hair.  She clung, blushing as she resumed her earlier trek with the other, fingers lingering on his when she passed him on his way up.

“Your skin is like silk.”

He brushed a gentle touch along the underside of her breasts and she writhed, flames spreading from the simplest caress. Her nipples were almost painfully tight now, and she didn’t know if they needed more or less, only that when he finally brushed them with his palm, feather light and questing, she was lost. He murmured a line of kisses down her neck and up the curve of her shoulder and Lis wanted to curse the limitations of their position. She wanted his mouth on her breasts, but—oh, Maker—she didn’t want to lose contact with the hard, driving, heat of him.

“I can’t get enough of you.” It sounded ridiculous out loud, but the truth sometimes was.

Her fingers were at her navel now and clumsy—she hadn’t been clumsy at this since she was fifteen—but his breath caught when she journeyed lower. The first brush of her fingers were like no touch before, it was as if they were his and Lis gasped, hips bucking, rhythm stumbling before he caught it, pushing her gently forward. Her fingers slid easily between slick, swollen flesh and Kel caught whatever hopeless, mewling sound she nearly made with tender lips.

“I might know a little bit about that,” he replied softly.

They moved together then, falling easily into concert, pleasuring rebounding higher and brighter between the thrust of his hips and the deft movements of her fingers. The first edge of climax hit her fast, and she caught his bottom lip with her teeth too hard, body trembling back into the sheltering curve of his.

“I’ve got you.”

His hand trailed from her breast to her waist, then up the rise of her hip, higher still to the apex of her knee. Kel pulled back gently, just a fraction, spreading her wider and Lis stared up at him heart pounding like a rowing drum, as he watched her fingers glide between her lips. 

“Fuck, Lis.” His breath was harsh against her neck, the curse seeming torn from him. His fingers flexed on her knee. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

She arched back in counterpoint to his thrust bringing them together harder, quicker than either of them expected and he groaned. “I’m not—“

He snapped forward, cock sliding hard over the curve of her ass and Lis whimpered, pushing back, rocking forward, caught again between them, body soaring.

“I’m not going to last long,” he muttered, catching the lobe of her ear in his lips.

His hand left her knee, moving slow and easy to her breasts again. He plucked one nipple gently with thumb and forefinger, a careful testing, and Lis moaned, fingers circling her clit. When he mimicked that gentle touch with his tongue, she bit muffled a scream against her shoulder.

She wasn’t either, if he kept doing that. Lis tried to mumble something to that effect as she twisted her lips to his for another kiss. They were both panting now, breath coming in same quick measure as the frantic movements of their hips. She had lost her place twice now, fingers skittering away and back, ecstasy singing from every touch.  No, she wasn’t going to last long at all.

“You first,” she whispered, lips breaking wide on a grin when he tried to protest. “Just this once.”

She reached back to grab his hip—hard—the tips of her fingers sliding beneath the loose waistband of his pants, leaving a trail of dampness, a wake of gooseflesh. He groaned once against her mouth before he pulled his lips from hers, burying his face in her neck, hips crashing through their steady rhythm, thrusts becoming sharp, erratic. Their fingers caught in her hair, their mutual hold near to bruising, but the hand on breast was gentle trailing fire up the line of her sternum.

“Lis.”

Her name whispered against the shell of her ear and his hand splayed wide at the base of her throat, thumb sweeping across her racing pulse.  The touch was at once reverent and possessive, and the former she might have predicted, but not the latter.

“Yours,” he muttered, surprising her further.

Lis fought the gentle hold, found his lips again.

“Yours,” she whispered, rolling back against him, pulling his hips forward at the same time with her hand, and grinding once-twice-until his breath was harsh against her skin, until he was shuddering, body curling close around her with the force of his climax.

She wasn’t expecting the heat, or the way he pulsed against her as his body spent itself; Lis trembled in response the first small orgasm bright and deceptively gentle. She caught his hand in hers, dragged it from her throat to her stomach, then lower, brushed the tips of his fingers and hers in a clumsy slide that spun pleasure from bright to blinding.

“Kel.”  Lis clung, gasping, not quite ready to let herself fall.

“I’ve got you,” he vowed again.

She smiled, turned her face up to press her cheek to his.

“I know.”

Lis took a slow breath, drew him in and held on for single shuddering breath before she dropped into splendor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so proud of Kel and Lis's story. I really wanted to write something that at least encompassed the spirit of my own first love and first discoveries, specifically the shift in my understanding of my sexual identity from asexual to demisexual. In no way is this meant to show that ace’s can be (or need to be) “fixed” by falling in love (and I want to stress that), but rather what a confusing, heady journey it can be to discover that you are not as you thought you were. I have written asexual characters before (Cari Trevelyan) who are not demi, and I’ve written demisexual characters well past the point of discovering/identifying that about themselves (Essa), but Kel and Lis are young and learning and I remember what an overwhelming and wonderful tumult that was. I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, figuring out myself has always felt like coming home.


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